


Wicked Game

by dragonofdispair, Rizobact



Series: Smoke and Mirrors [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, TF Flash Challenge 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8368957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofdispair/pseuds/dragonofdispair, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rizobact/pseuds/Rizobact
Summary: Prowl attends their funeral.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Transformers Flash Fic Challenge using the song _Wicked Game_ by Chris Isaak as the prompt (only not quite b/c dragon had a copy of the song by a local street artist on her computer that we actually used). The featured character is Prowl. 500 words.

The weather was perfect; warm, dry. Pleasant. Prowl spent the whole day walking through a fog, unable to escape the cold welling up inside him. As he moved, mechs parted around him like curls of mist in the early morning chill. Like the morning Jazz hadn't come home. They ebbed and flowed in waves, offering condolences, platitudes, and anecdotes about the friend they'd lost. But Jazz ~~wasn't~~ hadn't been Prowl's friend. He ~~was~~ had been his sparkmate.

Not many mechs got to attend their own funerals, Prowl thought idly. It felt like his funeral, though.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. It was never supposed to have been like this, any of it. Not just the mission that had gone so horribly, unexpectedly wrong, not just Jazz going on the ~~damned~~ doomed assignment in the first place, but Jazz being in his life at all. Prowl never thought he could love somebody like Jazz. Someone who couldn't tell him any of the details of his job, who had to keep secrets and strange hours… who lit up a room with his smile, who brought out the smile on Prowl's normally stoic face. Whose mind was as sharp as his daggers, and who stirred the emotions Prowl normally kept a tight lid on to a roiling boil.

He'd never wanted to love him.

He'd never stood a chance.

Jazz had worked his way into Prowl's life, inch by incremental inch, until Prowl could no longer imagine his world without him. He'd been the one to propose to Jazz, in fact, so sure he had been… he wasn't so sure now. Better to have loved and lost, they said. You were lucky to know a love like that. Lucky to have had Jazz, when their paths crossing had been a total fluke, and there had been so many obstacles to overcome in reconciling their very different lives and personalities.

Prowl would have said it was worth it without hesitation only a few days ago. Would have said that any sacrifice was worth it, to have Jazz in his life. Sure Jazz's job was dangerous. Prowl had known that. Known that the possibility of something happening existed. But he'd never truly imagined having to live without Jazz. Why should he have? They were bonded. They should have died together.

Prowl was dead without Jazz, regardless.

Ignoring whatever drivel the mech trying to talk through the static in his audials was spouting, Prowl walked up to the plaque bearing Jazz's name and traced the glyphs there with numb fingers. The polished metal gleamed back beneath his digits, cold and gray… warm and blue.

"Hey," Jazz's reflection smiled wistfully at him. "You don't belong here. Not yet."

"Don't I?" Prowl whispered, the words barely making it past his lips around the lump in his throat. "I belong with you."

"You are with me. And I'm with you," Jazz replied. Fingers Prowl couldn't feel entwined with his in the metal of the grave. "Always."


End file.
